Naked Prey

white garbage sack, and could smell the garbage inside. “Smells like old pizza,” he said. “Like from a Dumpster out behind a pizza joint on a hot summer night.”
    “Lucky you didn’t get one of them diaper bags,” Bussard said. “They smell like old shit on a hot summer night.”
    The Californian said, “I got something here.” He was probing at a dark green garbage bag. They cleared away a little more dirt, then Bussard took a Leatherman tool off his belt, flicked open a blade, and slashed through the green bag.
    A woman’s bare leg, flexed; her toenails were painted red.
    “There you go,” Zahn said. “There you go.”
    D EL SAID, “L OREN Singleton. Here we come.”
    “I’m coming with you,” Zahn said. “I want to see what that sonofabitch has to say for himself.”

24
    A LL OF IT was innocent. Back at the church in Broderick, Letty told the older woman about the scene at the dump and the shoot-out between Lucas, Del, and the FBI. Then Letty took a pill for her hand, got a book, and found an empty bed she could lie on, to read. Ruth went to work on the phone, calling members of her network in Canada. The older woman went down the highway to Wolf’s Cafe, got a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, and told Sandra Wolf that the FBI and the state were up at the dump, and about the shooting contest.
    A bit later, a sheriff’s deputy came into the cafe, and Wolf told him about the shooting contest, and that the FBI was searching the dump. The deputy was a little put off about it because he’d been working—well, watching—the FBI guys at Deon Cash’s house, and they’d all taken off without telling him anything. He was also fairly sure that the sheriff had been cut out of the deal, so he called Mrs.Holme, the sheriff’s secretary, and asked her to pass on the word to the sheriff.
    The sheriff was out, but she passed it on to several other people.
    The word took almost an hour to get to Loren Singleton, who was getting a Sprite out of the fire station Coke machine when he heard about it. “Up there digging holes,” said the guy who’d heard it from a guy who’d heard it from Holme. “Better them than me. That place smells bad even when it’s all covered up and froze.”
    M ARGERY S INGLETON HAD just gotten home, carrying a brown grocery bag with a box of beef brains from Logan’s Fancy Meats, flour and milk from the Kwik Stop, and a sack of potatoes, when her son burst in on her.
    “The jig’s up,” he groaned at her. “Jesus Christ, the jig is up. The FBI and the state guys are up at the dump digging holes, and they’ve got all that special equipment up there. They’re gonna find them. Those California guys say they can find a hundred-year-old grave, and the Calbs haven’t been in the ground long enough to get cold.”
    Margery’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’s because of that kid?”
    “Who else? When I took the girls up, there weren’t any cars around and I took them off to the back corner and it was almost dark. So who else is up there that might have seen me? There’s nothing out there, except those goddamn raccoons that the kid goes after.”
    “Who’d you hear this from? This isn’t just bullshit, is it?”
    “Naw, I got it from Roland Askew. Here’s something else: they cut the sheriff out of the loop, even though they were all buddy-buddy up at Calb’s house. Why’d they do that? Because I’m a deputy, and they know it’s me that putthem in the ground. God, Mom, I’m really scared.” He jammed a knuckle into his mouth and bit it.
    Margery looked at the box of beef brains on the kitchen table. Brains, sliced like bread and fried up in beer batter, were a rare treat, as long as you got the brains when they were fresh. Frozen brains got mushy when you thawed them. She thought about the possibilities for a minute, then said, “If the girl is dead, she can’t testify. You’ve got to get up there and finish it.”
    “Mom, if they think it’s me . . . I got a hole in my chest, and a bruise. All they have to do is get me to take my shirt off.”
    “So you go up and take care of the girl. By the time you get back here, I’ll have it figured out: you’re gonna have an accident.”
    “An accident?”
    “A car wreck. Bruise you all up. I gotta think about it. Hurt you bad enough someplace else, like Fargo, that they put you in the hospital. You drive my car, we fake the wreck, you fake the injury. Hit something hard enough to pop the airbags. By the